Appetizers
by LoireLoa
Summary: A collection of snippets that may - or may not - come into being.
1. Timeless

**Summary:** There was a reason the use of Time-Turners are restricted, and Harry Potter was going to find that out the hard way.

**Timeless**

"Three turns ought to do it."

Harry stared at the doors that Dumbledore had just locked. "Hermione, what is he talking about?" he asked, quite confused. Hermione however, was too busy apologizing to Ron for having to leave him behind – _We're going somewhere? But we're locked in! –_ and fishing something out of her blouse –_Don't look, don't look!_ – to bother answering him, and the next thing Harry knew he was surrounded by swirling colors and sounds. When the swirling stopped and Harry was certain he knew what the clothes in the wash felt like during the spin cycle, they were – shock and awe – still standing in the Hospital Wing.

"Are you sure that whatever it was that you were supposed to be doing worked? I mean, we haven't _gone_ anywhere, and we certainly can't save Sirius while we're locked in here."

"Of course it worked," she replied, tucking the whatever-it-was back into her shirt, "it's _daylight_ out isn't it? Now come on, we've got work to do! And we _must not be seen!_"

"What? Why?" Harry asked, running to catch up with his bushy haired (and rather annoyed) friend. "It's not like people don't know that we go to school here. We've got every right to walk these halls as anyone else."

"_Harry_," the bookish girl huffed, "I will explain everything _later_, ok? Right now we have to get down to Hagrid's and save Buckbeak."

"Umm… ok." He shrugged. _Hermione usually knows what she's doing, right?_ "Can we stop off at the kitchens though? I'm _starving_."

"No! Buckbeak is about to be _executed_ Harry – could you _please_ focus on the task at hand here?"

"So… save Buckbeak and _then_ get food?"

Hermione's only response was to throw up her hands and stalk off, muttering about boys under her breath.

"Is that a 'no'?"

**Xxx**

Harry Potter was bored. He and Hermione had saved Buckbeak from execution, and were now sitting in the Forbidden Forest waiting for their past selves to head back up to the castle.

"Hermione…"

"Shhh!"

Harry sighed. _Yup, definitely boring. You would think that travelling back in time would be exciting…_

"Is that what my hair looks like form the back?" present Hermione said, inching forward to get a better look at past-Hermione's hair. A twig breaking somewhere in the Forest made past-Hermione turn around, anxiety on her features. Present-Hermione was forced to move behind a bush to avoid being seen, and Harry was left trying to soothe Buckbeak on his own. Up ahead, the Headmaster and Hagrid were discussing Buckbeak's 'escape' with the Minister and Executioner, after which the pairs parted ways – Fudge and McNair heading down to the gates and Dumbledore inviting Hagrid to his office for a spot of tea.

"Wouldn't mind if I do!" Hagrid said, cheered brightly by the thought of Buckbeak having gotten away. As the shapes of Hagrid and Dumbledore retreated, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _That could have gone a __**lot**__ worse!_

Of course, it was at that moment that Buckbeak decided to give him the slip.

"Hermione!" he hissed, catching her attention. "Buckbeak!"

Hermione glared at him. "I'll get him," she whispered, "you stay here. _And don't let us see you!_" Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what would happen if he _did_ see himself, but he didn't want Hermione to get upset with him over it. _She can be pretty scary when she's angry…_

Sighing, Harry turned back to the task at hand just in time to see Scabbers bite Ron and run off. "Ah!" Ron yelled, "Scabbers! Scabbers, come back!" The forest was filled with the sound of three teenagers crashing through the underbrush, and Harry was left alone. _Great_, he thought, _now I'm __**really**__ bored! Come on Hermione, where are you?_ Harry surveyed his surroundings with a wary eye. The Forbidden Forest was _not_ where he wanted to be right now. _Or ever really._ Sighing, he lay down in the grass and looked up at the sky. As he watched the clouds drift away from the nearly-risen full moon, something caught his attention. There, sparkling in the faint moonlight, was a gold chain. Picking it up, Harry saw that it was attached to what appeared to be an hourglass. _It's Hermione's Time-Turner! I wonder how you work it…_ _Best to start small, just in case…_ Looking around to ensure that Hermione wouldn't see him, he turned the dial back half a turn. When the world stopped blurring together, he found himself sitting in the exact same spot, looking into a pair of very familiar green eyes. _Uh oh..._

**Xxx**


	2. Badgered

**Summary: ** How much different could things have gone if one child had let his loyalty curb his ambition?

**Badgered**

A boy with lank, dark hair and threadbare secondhand robes slunk nervously up to the stool. His black eyes were filled with worry as he placed the ancient hat onto his head, unknowing that _his_ was the Sorting that would change everything.

_Well, well. What do we have here? _ A voice whispered in the boy's mind. _You __**are**__ a tricky one, aren't you? Never you mind, _the voice continued before the boy had a chance to panic, _I like a challenge, and there hasn't been a child yet who sat on this stool that I wasn't able to sort. _

Hearing those words, the boy relaxed. _So you __**aren't**__ going to send me away? I really get to stay here?_ He asked hopefully.

_Of course,_ replied the hat, _all I need to do is find what makes you, __**you**__. _

_What do you mean?_ The boy wondered. _My name is Severus, and I'm from Spinner's End, just outside of London. _

_What I mean, _the hat replied patiently,_ is that I need to know what makes you the kind of person that you are. Are you brave? _A memory passed through the boy's mind:

_A girl with red hair jumped off a swing as it reached its apex, but instead of falling to the ground quickly, she instead flew through the air to land softly in front of her sister. The boy, who had been watching from behind a bush, nodded decisively and stepped out of his hiding place, catching the attention of the two girls._

"_I know what you are!" he said, coming up to the girls excitedly, "you're a witch!"_

_Are you a scholar? _The voice asked once the memory ended. Again a memory rose to the surface:

_Two boys were standing on a stage in a large auditorium. Spotlights shone down on them as thought they were angels, and both had looks of deep concentration on their faces. _

"_I'm sorry Mr. Williams," a man's voice said, "that is incorrect. Mr. Snape, if you can spell this word correctly you will be the winner." The boy, Snape, nodded seriously. One watching would think that the fate of the world rested on his small shoulders. "The word," the man said, "is 'incorrigible'. If you can spell this word, you will have won the National Spelling Bee."_

_The boy nodded, and after taking a deep, calming breath, spoke: "Incorrigible. I-N-C-O-R-R-I-G-I-B-L-E. Incorrigible."_

_A hush fell over the crowd, and the boy waited with his fingers crossed for the verdict. _

"_Mr. Snape" the man said finally, "that is correct! Congratulations – you are the National Spelling Bee Champion!"_

Again the memory ended, and again the voice spoke in the boy's mind. _Are you cunning?_ It asked, causing a third memory to reveal itself:

"_Boy!" an angry voice bellowed, loud heavy footsteps echoing throughout the house. "Get your lazy ass out here! I'm warning you boy, if have to tell you __**one more time**__…"_

_A child appeared from another room. "Yes father?" he asked politely, eyes focused on the man's chin instead of his eyes._

"_Get over here!" the man commanded, pulling off his thick leather belt. "You've gone and done it this time! Didn't I tell you to clean out that chimney boy?"_

"_Yes sir." The boy answered fearfully. In truth, the man had __**not**__ told him to clean out the chimney, but the boy knew that disagreeing with his father was a bad idea when the man was sober, never mind when he was intoxicated._

"_Then why do I still see soot in my fireplace?" his father growled, face red and eyes narrowed. Briefly, the boy considered telling the man that it had been used again after he'd cleaned it, but quickly discarded the idea. Even if it were true, the question was a rhetorical one, and the boy was old enough now to know it. Instead, he simply hung his head in remorse and said nothing. Saying nothing, he'd learned, wouldn't get him out of a punishment, but it certainly wouldn't make it worse. Besides, with his father's drinking problems, beltings were par for the course in the Snape household. 'No', the boy thought, 'it's better to work around the man than to face him head on'. _

"_Come here." The man said ominously. The boy did so without question, and cried out loudly with each strike of the belt that cut into his skin. Later, when the man had tired of beating, the child would retire to his room, tears staining his cheeks. The man thought those tears were ones of pain; in reality, the tears were faked. As the boy lay on his bed, he once again pat himself on the back for coming up with the ingenious solution of purchasing a pair of riding leathers from a secondhand store and treating them with an invisibility serum that he'd distilled from invisible ink. 'And the best part' the boy thought, 'is that the bloody lush would never even know the difference.'_

_Ah. _The voice murmured in amusement, _there is plenty cunning here. Yes… but still, just to be thorough… Tell me boy, are you loyal?_ Instantly several memories sprang to mind, all jockeying for the hat's attention, until they finally bled together in a disjointed mash-up of image and sound:

_A girl with red hair and tear-stained cheeks running off as a boy with lank hair and patched clothes faced off against her older sister. _

"_Don't you talk about Lily that way! She's a hundred-thousand times the person you'll __**ever**__ be!"_

_A thin, dark-haired woman fell to the ground, face bruised and bleeding. A boy, her son, ran to her side and flung himself on top of her to shield her from the second blow. And the third. And the fourth…_

_Two children sat on a swing-set watching the sun set. "We'll always be friends, right Sev?" the girl asked, red hair glowing like coals in the fading light. _

"_Of course," the boy said confidently, "best friends. Forever."_

_A tall, wild-eyed boy sneered at a girl with red hair. "Associating with __**mudbloods**__ Snape? What would your parents say?" _

"_More than I'll bother saying if you don't __**shove off **__Lestrange."_

_Ah… _the hat said. _**This**__ is what I've been looking for. You're very cunning boy, I'll give you that, but I've not seen a child with loyalty such as this in a very long time. Yes, yes, _the hat mused aloud in the boy's mind, _Slytherin would have done you well, but for the perfect fit, it'd better be _

"**HUFFLEPUFF**!"

And although the boy didn't know it, he had just changed the fate of the world.


	3. Birthright

**Birthright**

**Summary:** Percy Weasley was always the odd one out, the "black sheep" of the Weasley family. Or was he?

**Chapter 1: The Losing Side**

Rain battered upon the windows of the ramshackle building at the end of High Street. To most, the "Shrieking Shack" (as the locals dubbed it) was the most haunted building in the area, excluding Hogwarts Castle, and was not to be entered under any circumstances. However, for those in the know, it was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix – a group of vigilantes from all walks of life who were untied by a single common thread: the protection of the public from the forces of Evil. And it was in this house, on this night that those same individuals had gathered to discuss the defense against a specific kind of evil: the evil of hate and ignorance; the evil of arrogance, of subjugation, of leadership through intimidation. On this night, the sixteenth of December in the year 1975, the Order of the Phoenix gathered to discuss the evil that was Lord Voldemort.

**16 December 1975, Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, the Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade**

"Quiet down! Quiet! **Enough!**"

A loud _bang!_ echoed throughout the room, gathering the attention of everyone present. All eyes turned to the imposing – and angry – wizard standing at the end of the badly gouged wooden table. "If you are all _quite_ finished?"

A chorus of "yes, Albus" went around the room as those who'd become overexcited retook their seats with abashed expressions. They were all adults here, and yet at the mere _mention_ of a spy had degraded the situation until they were squabbling like schoolchildren.

"Albus, do you really think there's a spy?" a woman wearing tartan robes and a rather severe bun asked worriedly.

"I should certainly hope not Minerva, but there is no other explanation for Voldemort's recent successes. He must have someone inside the Ministry feeding him information – how else would he know such classified information?"

"I say it's Malfoy," a red haired man stated stubbornly. "He seems like the type – slimy and as ambitious as they come. And let's not forget his father's sudden decline in health. _Dragonpox_ _my foot_."

"Oh come off it Gideon! You _always_ think it's Malfoy!" a man who could have been the first's mirror image countered.

"Well it always _is_ him!"

"You don't have any proof that it's true!"

"_You_ don't have any proof that it _isn't_!"

"Why don't we _get_ proof, one way or the other?" a man with a vivid blue glass eye and a ghastly scar running across his nose asked before the familiar argument could escalate.

"And how would we do that, exactly? It's not like he'll tell us if we just ask nicely. Since his father kicked it the crafty bastard's become nearly as paranoid as you are, Alastor. Getting the jump on him will be nigh impossible."

"I never said it would be easy, now did I Charlus? It'll be tricky, but the benefits outweigh the risks. We _need_ that information."

"I agree, but how do we _get_ it? That's the real question."

"Anyone'll talk if you know how to _persuade_ them."

All eyes turned to the husky, graying man seated next to Albus Dumbledore. Sturgis Podmore was a good friend of the Headmaster, but what exactly he did for a living was unclear – and the rumors that he refused to either confirm or deny made them hesitant to ask.

"You're not suggesting we _torture him_ are you?" Minerva cried, aghast.

"Heavens no, woman," he replied, "nothing so drastic as that. However a little _Veritaserum_ certainly wouldn't be amiss."

"And just how do you expect to get him to take it?" she rejoined.

"I expect for one of the pretty lasses in this room to talk him into it, one way or another." he said. "Even a paranoid bugger like him will let his guard down for a pretty face and a low neckline. After that it's just a matter of getting him alone for the questioning - and for that a little _Imperius_ will work wonders. He'll be at the Zabini's Solstice Ball on the twenty-second; we can get him then."

"It's a good plan Sturgis," Dumbledore agreed, stroking his long silver beard, "the best we have, at the moment. Ladies, is there anyone willing to take on this mission?"

Several minutes of murmuring and furtive glances passed. Everyone agreed on the necessity of the plan, but none of them it seemed wanted to be the one to get their hands dirty. Just as Albus was ready to discard the plan, a woman sitting between the bickering twins (to whom she bore a striking resemblance) and a ginger haired man stood.

"I'll do it, Albus" she said.

"Molly, are you certain?"

"I am."

"Very well."

And with that the planning began in earnest.

**22 December 1975, Formal Gardens, Zabini Chateau, France**

"There's the signal; are you ready? There's no undoing it once it's done you know."

"I _know_ that Arthur. Stop hassling me and just give me the bloody Polyjuice already!"

"Okay, okay…" a vial of potion passed between them. "I'm just worried that something might go wrong is all. Listen, don't forget to _Obliviate_ him alright? We don't need him catching on; it'll ruin everything."

"I _know_!"

"I love you Molly."

"I love you too Arthur. I'll see you at home." The man apparated away with a _crack_ and once she was sure she was alone the woman downed the murky contents of the vial, shuddering at the taste. _'It's like drinking half a bottle of perfume!'_ she thought, wishing for something to wash the taste out of her mouth with. After a moment, the woman slowly began to change. Her long, vibrant red hair was replaced by short, curly golden ones; her somewhat muscular limbs changed into longer, daintier ones; and her plump, curvy body (the result of birthing two children) was swapped for a younger, more willowy figure. The woman who had previously stood in that spot - a humble, middle-aged Molly Weasley – was now the vivacious, young Rita Skeeter. And she was on a mission.

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" someone called, causing the man in question to pause. He swore internally as his ex sauntered up to him in a nearly indecent blue dress. _Just like Rita to peddle her wares like a common whore._ "Lucius! _Darling_!" the woman simpered as she caught up to him, "Why, I haven't seen you in _years_!"

"Yes," the statuesque blonde drawled, "pity, that."

"Oh but it _is_ a pity!" she declared, looping her arm through his and manhandling (not that he'd ever admit it) him down a seemingly random garden path. "Are you still seeing that Black girl? Some 'N' name, I keep forgetting. Nancy perhaps. Anyway, you're not still seeing her are you? I hear her family's on the brink of bankruptcy! And you don't want to be tying yourself to _that_."

Lucius took several deep breaths in an effort to keep his composure, then replied "_Narcissa_, and yes we are together – married now in fact – and the rumors of the Black's financial hardship is _greatly_ exaggerated. Though I suppose you _would _know all about the dangers of tying oneself to a money sink, now wouldn't you? Seeing as how you _are_ one?"

A breathy laugh echoed around him. "Why Lucius, you _do_ say the most flattering things!"

"What can I say? I'm a Malfoy – flattery is my bread and butter."

"Oh! You are just too _much_!" she tittered.

"Hardly. I assure you madam, that it _looks_ more imposing than it is."

Lucius watched as her eyes widened and her cheeks turned a rather endearing shade of pink. _'It's moments like this that I remember why I was so fond of her.'_

"That was absolutely _scandalous_! And to say such things in front of a _lady_?"

This time, he laughed. "_You_, a _lady_? What dictionary are you using? You _live_ for scandal, and _debauchery_ ought to be your _first_ name, never mind your middle!"

"Why, I never!"

"Bullocks! You did so – often and occasionally in _public_, if Cornelius is to be believed."

"We did _not_! Those are just lies to make himself look good around his mates. I heard he plans on running for Minister, did you know?"

Lucius nodded. "He's mentioned it once or twice, but I hadn't thought he was serious. Not until he asked me to back his campaign, anyway. I honestly never would have thought he had it in him. He hated politics until recently, then next you know he's asking me to cut him a campaign check. Odd, really. I wonder what changed his mind?"

"Maybe he's afraid that if he doesn't run you'll run yourself. You're quite popular in the Ministry, you know."

"Me?" Malfoy shook his head, amused. "My father might have wanted that for me but I never wanted it for myself. I want it even less, now that he's gone – run into the ground by his obsession."

"I thought it was Dragonpox? That's what the _Prophet_ reported."

"That's what they say, but the body was cremated before anyone could get a better look at it. I was told that it was to keep any lingering bacteria from infecting anyone else, but I'm not sure I believe that. He was my _father_; I should have been given the opportunity to say goodbye _properly_. Instead, I got a sealed urn in the post with a blatantly insincere letter of condolence attached to it. _Disgraceful_. The whole thing just reeks of foul play and a cover-up."

"You don't think you're being paranoid?"

"I'm a _Malfoy_, Rita – there's no such thing as _paranoid_, not for us."

They walked in contemplative silence for several, each mulling over what had been said.

"We're in public." she mused tentatively.

"I'm sorry?"

"What we were talking about earlier. That was just a rumor, but it doesn't have to stay that way - does it?" she looked up at him from underneath lowered eyelashes. "We could make it true, you and I."

"No."

"Lucius come on! It'll be fun! Just like old times."

"No."

"It'll cheer you up, and don't say you don't need it."

"It won't, and I don't. Not from you."

"Lucius…"

He stepped away from her, body tense with anger. "_No_ Rita. I'm married, and I love my wife. I'm not going to throw that away with you."

"In private then," she offered, "that way no one will ever have to know."

Lucius scoffed. "You are _incorrigible_! What part of _no_ don't you understand? I'm not risking my marriage - or reputation - for _anyone or anything,_ least of all alackluster romp in the sheets with gossipy _harlot_ like yourself!"

"But-"

"**Enough**, Rita; I've heard _enough_. Go find someone else's marriage to ruin; I'm not letting you ruin mine."

Molly swore as she watched him walk away. '_Damn you and your bloody loyalty! Who would have thought the Crown Prince of Slytherin had the heart of a bleeding Hufflepuff?' _She watched morosely as he mover further away. Sighing, she decided there was no hope for it – desperate times called for desperate measures. The Order _needed _to know what he knew. Determinedly, she strode after him.

'_It's for the Greater Good. And once I _Obliviate_ him, no one will know.'_

"Lucius!" she called, causing him to pause in consternation. She took his arm in one hand, and her wand in the other.

"_Imperio._"

**22 December 1975, Guest Quarters, Zabini Chateau, France**

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" Molly asked as she poured three drops of _Veritaserum_ into a glass of water. "Here, have some water." She watched as he took the glass and emptied it. The Polyjuice would be wearing off soon, but that wouldn't matter once she _Obliviated_ him.

"Now, let's have a little chat shall we? We'll start with something easy: what is your name?"

"Lucius Helios Malfoy."

"Do you serve or sympathize with the Dark Lord know as Lord Voldemort?"

"No."

"No?" '_What do you mean 'no'?'_ "Explain."

"The Dark Lord seeks war; to join him would be to put myself on the front lines and I will not endanger my life. Nor would I endanger my wife's life by siding against him. I will not let her become a target; she is all I have left now."

Molly growled in irritation. _'There's that bleeding Hufflepuff heart of his again.'_ "Have you ever been approached by the Dark Lord or an agent of him?"

"To my knowledge, no."

"Was your father a Death Eater?"

"I don't know."

Molly pulled her hair – now back to its usual red – in frustration. This was _not_ how this interrogation was supposed to go! Sighing, she pulled herself together and tried to think of something useful that he might know.

"What are your future aspirations?" '_There,' _she thought, '_that should get me _something_ useful.'_

"I always wanted a large family. We have been trying for a child, Narcissa and I, but haven't had much luck. Not like Arthur Weasley, the lucky bastard. I hear he's got two already."

'_Lucius Malfoy is jealous of a Weasley?'_ "What about the war?"

"What about it? Traditionally Malfoys are French, born and bred. I see no reason why this should change."

"So you plan to leave the country? What about your holdings here?"

"The further away from the conflict we are, the safer we'll be. Besides, money is nice, but it doesn't breathe. The vault will keep accruing interest whether I'm here or not. And even if it doesn't, it's just money. Why die for something they make more of everyday?"

'_Why indeed? I never thought I'd say but the man's a good catch.'_ "Your wife is lucky to have a husband like you."

"No," he disagreed, eyes still glazed over from the potion in his system. "_I'm_ lucky to have _her_."

"We'll agree to disagree. _Obliviate._"

**23 December 1975, Master Bedroom, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England**

"You didn't have to have _sex_ with him!" Arthur whispered furiously. "And for _what_? _Nothing_, that's what! You just had to get him alone long enough to get some answers!"

"You say that like I _wanted_ to have sex with him! The plan didn't call for sex, but it _did_ call for seduction, and not every man has the kind of self-restraint that you have!" she snapped angrily.

"So you're saying what, exactly? That you started it and he finished it?"

"Yes!"

"I hardly think that excuses it! You didn't need to get _physical_ with him at all! _Implied or otherwise_!"

"It's not like it was _consensual_ Arthur! How could you ever think that?"

Arthur stared at her as though he was trying to read her mind (and perhaps he was). "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Molly. Are you saying he _raped_ you?"

'_No,'_ she thought, _'_I_ raped _him.' "Yes."

Arthur paled, and then turned an increasingly alarming shade of red. "That brutish, sniveling, slimy son-of-bitch! I'll tear him apart! How _dare_ he! I'll set the Aurors on him! I'll-"

"You can't." Molly whispered. "I _Obliviated_ remember. He won't recall doing it, and if they _Legilimize_ him they'll see that and the _I'll_ be in just as much trouble for putting him under the _Imperius_ and drugging him with _Veritaserum._"

Arthur seethed. He wanted revenge, but he knew that Molly was right – alerting the Aurors could backfire on them. They would have to keep quiet – for now.

"Fine. But I still want you to get checked out by a Healer. Who knows what that bastard might have left behind. Better safe than sorry, I say."

"He didn't curse me, Arthur."

"We don't know that for certain. It's better to be sure. Promise me."

Molly sighed. _'I owe him this at least.'_ "Alright. I'll see a Healer."

"Good."


End file.
